


Let Me Kiss You

by demonessryu



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Attempt at Humor, Banter, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Drunken Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Secret Crush, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 10:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu
Summary: Five times Brian kissed Roger and one time Roger kissed him.Finally. God, they weresoslow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my usual posting schedule but (a) I was almost murdered by overtime and couldn't figure out whether this fic is good enough even after staring at it for hours, (b) I just recovered from the greatest personal tragedy in recent memory that was me accidentally sending a smut fic to my job (kids, don't send professional docs seconds after finishing a week of overtime), and (c) I couldn't come up with a title. But, I need to get this out of my laptop so here we are. Enjoy?

The first time Brian kissed Roger, Roger punched him.

It was after a performance at a college club. Adrenaline was still pumping rapidly through Brian’s veins and he still could feel the excitement of people dancing to their songs, cheering for them and throwing undergarments of questionable hygiene at them. The pride and exhilaration of a good performance, however, almost couldn’t rival Brian’s vivid memory of the way Roger all but glowed behind his drum kit, his hair a halo and his glistening exposed chest a sinful temptation. They were transporting their instruments back to their battered band van and the darkened hallway they passed through pounded with music that imitated Brian’s racing heartbeats. Roger was a few steps in front of him, lost in his own thoughts, a wonderful if slightly mad maze Brian hadn’t successfully navigated. When a poster on the wall caught Roger’s attention, the dim lights from a dying lamp above him hit him just right and Brian could just see the glistening sweat on his pale skin, the etherealness of his lovely profile, the tempting curl of his full lips, and the brightness of his blue eyes. Brian thought of all the looks they shared while performing, the smiles when no one was looking, the connection they had with no one else in the band. The infatuation that had grown since the day he set his eyes on Roger and got stronger with each second he was beside Roger could not be contained anymore. Brian pushed Roger against the wall and kissed him, deep and hard and desperate, everything Brian shouldn’t be but nevertheless was for Roger.

Then, Roger punched him.

Brian had a sense that Roger was holding back because he had seen what Roger could do in a proper bad mood. Still, he reeled backward, cheek aching and head spinning. The wall behind him stopped him, which was fortunate because he had lost some of his equilibrium in the shock. With the last of his wits, Brian managed to set down the Red Special carefully. He clutched his cheek, trying to take in what had just happened as pain spread over his face and reverberated inside his skull. He blinked rapidly as his vision was filled stars, comets and a few curious UFOs. Brian would be more pleased about his new insight on the universe if not for the fact that it was inspired by a solid punch from his long-term crush.

Roger scowled at him, hands fisted at his sides. “Really, Brian? Even _you_ mistake me for a girl? Are you joking?”

“Uh,” Brian said eloquently, not knowing how to tell Roger that his maleness was part of his appeal to Brian. (“I like your cock,” Brian had heard Freddie said to a poor unsuspecting man one time, supposedly as a joke. It won Brian’s personal award for worst pickup line ever uttered by an allegedly intelligent life form.)

“Can’t a bloke have long hair without being mistaken for a woman?” Roger continued, unaware of Brian’s thoughts. He jabbed at his exposed flat chest almost vindictively. “Is this not enough to prove that I’m a man?” he demanded, eyes shining with fury.

Instantly, Brian regretted his lapse of control. He knew how it bothered Roger that he kept being harassed by men who thought he was a woman. Some of them could be dismissed with a laugh, but others were upset to be wrong, forcing Brian to threaten to throw his thick textbooks at them from behind Roger’s back, Freddie to summon the maximum effect of his perfect smoky eye makeup and John to smilingly inch his way to the security (it was entirely possible that of the four of them John was the only sane one). Roger knew how to take care of himself (as Brian was now painfully sure about) but no amount of laughing, shouting or punching could erase the annoying fact the fact that he could hardly have a night out without some stupid man making a pass at him. It was a constant source of annoyance to him, mostly because he was usually the only one of his friends who received this treatment. Only a few very brave men would publicly make a pass at Freddie and Brian supposed he and John weren’t particularly attractive to their own gender. But, Roger… Well, Brian might not share the misunderstanding, but he understood very well how attractive Roger was, how he drew attention and never let it go, how he was simultaneously everything he seemed to be and yet so very different from his first impression, how he made every day an exercise of self-control, how he infiltrated non-dry dream that seriously no one above the age of seventeen should have at such frequency. Speaking of which, Brian needed to restock his hand lotion.

“That’s it! I’m growing a beard!”

This derailed Brian’s train of thoughts, crashing it on some neuron stations that thankfully only contained memories of where he currently lived and not the occasion-specific photographic memories of glimpses he caught of Roger changing his clothes before performances. “Sorry, what?”

“You fucking heard me!” Roger spat out viciously. He picked up the bag he had dropped when Brian kissed him, and stomped away.

Brian quickly grabbed his guitar and followed him. “I’m sorry. I guess I drank too much,” he said even though he had barely drunk anything that night. “Is-is it really necessary to grow a beard?” he asked, disconcerted and appalled by the image of the worryingly malnourished Viking he conjured up in his head.

“_You_ tell me if it’s necessary at all!”

“Roger. _Rog_.” Brian hesitantly touched Roger’s arm to stop him. For a moment, he was sure Roger would punch him again and he braced himself for the hit, but Roger stopped and did nothing worse than glaring at him. It was a start, but Brian knew too well from uncountable arguments with him that Roger’s anger passed slowly and he held onto grudges a little too dearly. Sometimes Brian wondered how they had managed to remain friends at all. Most of the time, he tried not to think of how it might mean Roger returned a fraction of Brian’s feelings for him. “I’m sorry. I really am,” he said sincerely because he shouldn’t have kissed Roger like that, because he had assumed and got carried away, because he still thought that the throbbing pain in his cheek was worth knowing the softness of Roger’s lips.

Roger glared at him for a while more, but eventually huffed loudly and turned away, still angry but slightly more forgiving. “Get Freddie and John. Let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”

The thought that Roger wanted to drink to forget the kiss smarted quite a bit, but Brian ignored it and nodded obediently, not wanting to displease Roger further. He put his guitar in their old van and hurried back to the club to fetch Freddie and John. An hour later found the four of them at a pub they often frequented as Brian tried to convince Freddie that the blooming bruise on his cheek was a result of an argument with a drunk. He tried not to feel too hurt when Roger ignored him in favor of seducing a pretty girl.

(If asked what his top three biggest regrets were, being the cause of the stubbles Roger began to sport a week later would be one of them.)

(If asked when he knew he was completely, deeply in love with Roger, he’d say it was when despite the frankly pathetic stubbles, all he could think about when he looked at Roger was how much he wanted to kiss him again.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the most fun chapters to write. I hope you enjoy it!

The second time Brian kissed Roger, it was an honest accident.

They were playing (death) scrabbles and Freddie was using and inventing all sorts of obscure words. John, now used to how competitive Freddie was in the game, merely shook his head. He had more patience than Brian, who kept reminding Freddie that they were supposed to use _real_ _English_, and Roger, who wanted to win as much as Freddie did but was surprisingly less willing to resort to cheating. Despite the constant arguments, they were actually having fun. Beer bottles were passed around and there was a small cemetery of cigarettes butts on an ashtray Brian had got to accommodate his friends’ addiction. They joked, teased, laughed and gossiped, temporarily forgetting that they were all broke and their dream was as distant as the planets Brian couldn’t stop thinking about when he wasn’t dreaming about Roger. Then, Roger went to stub his cigarette on the ashtray on one side of the table just as Brian grabbed a can of beer from the other side of the table. They both only had long enough time to widen their eyes in surprise before their lips met in a brief kiss.

Freddie screamed.

In delight, of course, but it was loud and screechy enough to make John wince and Brian and Roger pull away from each other to frown at him. Freddie was unfazed, though, and grinned the widest grin Brian had ever seen. “Ooh! Do that again!” he demanded, clapping his hands gleefully.

“We’re not putting on a show for you, Fred,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. He gave it a thought, then smirked. “Not for free anyway.”

Freddie enthusiastically rummaged his pockets as Brian’s mind reeled with the fact that he had just kissed Roger again and the potential of kissing him _yet again_ soon. Unfortunately, Freddie only triumphantly held up a small handful of coins. “I have almost one pound!”

Roger looked at the coins critically. “That’s not even enough for hand holding.” He lighted a fresh stick of cigarette, watching Freddie demanding John to contribute to the fee and therefore thankfully unaware of how Brian surreptitiously checked his pockets. Much to Brian’s disappointment, he only found a sad six pence coin. “You act like you’ve never seen men kiss before.”

“But it’s not just any men! It’s you two!” Freddie exclaimed, sounding offended that Roger thought of himself and Brian as random men. “You two looked _absolutely_ _wonderful _kissing!” he gushed.

Brian and Roger shared a look. Roger could be hard to read, but Brian knew at that moment just like him, Roger was thinking about the two kisses they had had. Brian’s lips tingled with the memory that hadn’t completely faded away in the past months that he often conjured from the depth of his mind to aid with his insomnia. Did Roger ever briefly feel the same way? Probably not, Brian thought despairingly, noting how Roger’s gaze on him was steady whilst his was wavering in an effort not to look at Roger’s lips. This wasn’t surprising, but still very disappointing. Somehow, a small stupid part of Brian still hoped that Roger would find him remotely attractive even though he had seen multiple times how Roger preferred the opposite sex.

Brian cleared his throat and turned to the board. “That’s not a word, Fred,” he said, pointing to a series of far too many consonants and too few vowels.

“It is! I saw it when we were in Wales!”

They argued for a long time, but in the end Freddie still won the game. John, unimpressed by the outcome, suggested listening to the radio or watching TV instead, but Freddie objected on the ground that no one was _that_ interested in watching John fondling the knobs of those devices for hours. Roger seemed to take this as his cue to forage for food in the kitchen and Brian followed him to avoid being dragged into a lengthy argument on top of being separated from Roger. He took care to keep some distance from Roger, though, just in case he was angry. It was a difficult feat to make in the small kitchen where every object and everyone’s throats were designed to be within convenient reach. Brian ended up standing near the door, warily eyeing all the potential weapons scattered about the space, while Roger open the cabinet doors to look for anything remotely edible.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know how you feel about…” he stuttered to a brief halt as Roger looked at him quizzically, head slightly tilted to the side in a way that made Brian long to bury his fingers in his hair and… “Kissing me-kissing _men_,” he corrected quickly.

Roger raised an eyebrow, then shrugged indifferently. “It’s fine. It was an accident anyway.” He narrowed his eyes at Brian. “Wasn’t it?”

“Of course,” Brian said with a frown, offended. “You’ve made it _very_ clear you don’t like men’s attention. I won’t force that kind of thing on you.” Sure, he often thought about kissing Roger and touching him and telling him things he had never told any other soul, but he wouldn’t dare to, not when it was abundantly clear that Roger’s interest didn’t lie anywhere near him.

“I’m just joking, but I’m glad to hear that.” Roger looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and leaned against the counter behind him, arms crossed in front of his chest in a defensive posture. “I’m actually thinking that kissing other men may not be so bad.”

“Are you?” Brian said faintly a few seconds later. His stupid traitorous heart swelled with hope, ignoring the voice of logic in his mind warning him against it.

“Not just _any _men. Some blokes are bloody awful.” Roger wrinkled his nose in disgust for emphasis. “But maybe _some _men. I don’t know yet. I just think I won’t know for sure until I try.”

“So you’re going to… try?” Brian asked, torn between offering his aids and risking their friendship, and letting Roger find other men and risking his own heart.

“Maybe. I’ve not decided. I haven’t found anyone-well, any _man_, I want to kiss.”

Brian studied him for a long moment, meeting his stubborn gaze unflinchingly. It hurt to know that Roger didn’t want to kiss him, but he did mean it when he said he wouldn’t force any kind of attraction to him. If Roger didn’t want him, then he should live with it. He _had _lived with it for years. He would be able to live with it for many more years to come. It would hurt, but the alternative, the mere idea of coercing Roger into feeling any kind of attraction for him, was positively sickening. Brian would rather his heart torn to pieces, see Roger find another man (or woman,) than making him deal with the horror of forced affection.

“Well,” Brian started on an exhale. “If you do find anyone, let me know so I can stop Freddie from asking for a free show.”

Tension melted from Roger’s body and it warmed Brian a little to realize that he had been nervously waiting for his opinion. They might never have what Brian wish they had, but they would always have their friendship and honestly that wasn’t so bad. “Thanks. Sorry I punched you that time.”

Brian shook his head. “No, no. I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

They grinned at each other and then complained about Freddie’s awful gameplay. They rejoined their friends after Roger found a pack of stale biscuits. By then, John had given up arguing with Freddie, who was ready to start another round of scrabbles. Soon they were engrossed in the board game, forgetting what had recently transpired.

(Brian would always remember how he spent the rest of the evening quietly but miserably wishing he was a different man worthy of Roger’s fleeting attention.)

(Brian would also always remember his first noise complaint he got the next day. Freddie was banned from his flat for weeks until he learnt the art of indoor screaming.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't be bothered to google inflation so let's just say that <1 pound is a very little money in this timeline (early 70s). 
> 
> I'll probably be a bit busy until next month. In fact, I nearly forgot about this fic until last night. So, update may be a bit slow. Your feedback, like my salary, keeps me sane and alive. Any attempt to distract me from the boredom of writing a report via my tumblr is very much appreciated and welcomed.
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. A lot of things happened last month + there are only so many official documents I could read before I go spare = this chapter. This chapter is Bohemian Rhapsody compliant (unless I get the details wrong. Let me know because my brain isn't really working right now).

The third time Brian kissed Roger, they nearly got in trouble.

They were at Roger’s flat, lazily arguing about one thing or another. It was mental exercise Brian usually enjoyed quite a bit more than he did his favorite uni courses because Roger was as smart as he was beautiful, forcing him to think quickly, provoking him with petty stubbornness, winning him with boyish smiles, making him squirm uncomfortably until he could find something to put over his lap – so basically the opposite of his professors. He would enjoy it this time, too, if not for the sleeping girl draped over Roger. Brian didn’t catch her name before she passed out on top of Roger and he had a nagging suspicion that Roger hadn’t repeated it because he couldn’t quite remember. How typical of him and what an exemplary reminder of how Roger was not the best candidate for a serious lover. If Brian had any sense, he would end his years-long crush instead of wishing that it was him whose head was on Roger’s shoulder, arm over Roger’s torso, and shoulders encircled by Roger’s arm. Yet, he did wish it was him and he did wish he would make equally pretty picture with Roger instead of a reminiscent of that peculiar Japanese art of a woman and a decidedly affectionate octopus. The mental scarring had cost Brian several key arguments by the time Roger slipped out from under the girl to pick up a phone call. He was considering growing a beard for a week or two, or maybe writing a song that would make Freddie buy him a women’s top to cheer him up, in mourning of his defeat when Roger called him close and informed him the phone call had been John Reid telling him that not only had Queen hit the US charts, but they would also go on the much coveted American tour. Brian’s misery was immediately replaced by exhilaration. He gasped, then did the first thing he could think of: grabbing Roger’s face and kissing him firmly on the lips.

The girl’s groan of dismay tore the silence.

Brian wrenched himself away from Roger and turned to her with wild eyes. His heart battered his ribcage in fear and his blood ran cold in his veins as he searched her face for any sign of wakefulness. She seemed to be still sleeping, but nervousness still twisted his guts, making him sick. It was one thing to be seen accidentally kissing Roger by Freddie and John. Unless Freddie had some hitherto unknown clinical compulsion to ask men about their cocks, then he most probably wouldn’t take part in this type of prejudice, while John was generally kindly accepting of any complicated situation once he was done powering up his bass playing prowess by watching people squirm miserably. However, other people could be difficult, cruel, unpredictable. Brian might not be as in touch with the world as Roger was, but he was well-aware of the small-minded view commonly adopted by the society and its consequences, having had them featured in his nightmares a number of times. He bit his lip, watching the sleeping girl intently for signs of alertness, thinking up a thousand excuses he could give to protect Roger and himself, or at least Roger.

“Do you want her?”

Brian turned to Roger so quickly he was surprised he didn’t accidentally create a vacuum. “What?”

Roger shrugged as easy as anything. “If you’re interested…”

“_What_?”

Roger huffed impatiently. “Look, I notice you staring at her, okay? And some other girls I’ve been with, actually. I don’t mind – there’s nothing serious between me and any of them. If you want her, I’ll let her know.”

“I’m not…” Brian stammered, trying and failing to grasp the idea that he might find anyone beside Roger attractive, impossibility in the eyes of God and science and god of science. He shook his head vehemently at the absurdity of the suggestion. “I’m _not_. And you can’t just pass her around like she’s some kind of object!”

“I’m not passing anyone around! I’m just trying to help you since your method of showing your interest is staring at a girl like she’s handling the Red Special without permission!” Roger narrowed his eyes, studying Brian closely as he floundered. “When was the last time you have a shag?”

“Um,” Brian said eloquently. He hadn’t for a while, actually. However, he had very fresh memory the last time he reacquainted himself with his hand (last night) and how that re-acquaintance had gone (satisfactorily with glowing review and recommendation for immediate follow-up meetings) but he imagined saying such wouldn’t help his case with Roger.

Roger rolled his eyes. “No wonder you’re such a prick sometimes.”

“I’m _fine_!” Brian insisted, blushing. He’d say that Roger could be a bigger prick than he was, but he didn’t think he could handle the thoughts of Roger and pricks while having a conversation about his sex life or lack thereof. “I _don’t_ need help.” Seeing that Roger was about to continue arguing, Brian quickly spoke. “If anything, I should help _you_. I distinctly remember you mentioning about trying_ something_ a couple of years ago, but you haven’t tried anything, have you?”

Brian hadn’t been the president of the debate society for nothing, but his experience hadn’t prepared him for arguments with the force of nature that was Roger Taylor, who was somehow at once both a whirlwind and a wall of rocks – which spitted fire. To win an argument with Roger, underhanded tricks must be resorted to. Brian had hoped to at least sting a little (and not at all rouse any suspicion on why he still remembered that conversation which was because he had spent quite a few weeks having in-depth discussions with his trusty right hand about the unlikely possibility of Roger _trying _with him. The result of said discussions was currently inconclusive, requiring further research), but Roger merely looked at him dryly. “No. I don’t have to since you’ve helped me with that.”

Brian’s anger and embarrassment dissipated almost instantly, replaced by guilt. Sharing happiness – sharing anything and everything – with Roger always felt natural, but this wasn’t how he should go about it. There was a line drawn and he had crossed it again by letting his longing got the better of him. He shouldn’t have kissed Roger even if he had only meant it to express his joy that they had managed to get so far in reaching their shared dreams. “I’m really sorry. I got too excited. I shouldn’t have…” He gestured vaguely in what he hoped Roger caught as meaning kissing him out of the blue, but probably looked like he was imitating a drowning poodle.

“It was just a kiss.” Roger said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m getting used to it.”

Brian cringed. “That’s a terrible thing to get used to.”

Roger seemed surprised by his reaction. “It’s really not. I mean it’s just you. You don’t mean anything bad. Anyway, we should go to the pub together some time. I’ll introduce you to some girls.”

Brian chuckled wearily because the only person he cared to be with was in front of him, not caring about being kissed by him and now offering to introduce him to other people. Not that he wanted Roger to be persistently bothered by their past kisses or remain angry to him. However, to be easily dismissed, to have those kisses ignored, hurt more that Brian could say. He knew that he wasn’t insignificant in Roger’s life. He knew that he meant something to Roger: a good friend, a capable bandmate, a loyal confidant, a bunch of other things that just happened to not be ‘potential lover’. But, it still stung, it still ached to have the kisses that he couldn’t not think about whenever he looked at Roger be treated with utter indifference like they meant nothing-like _he _meant nothing to him.

Seeing that Roger still waited for a response, Brian remembered his offer and shook his head. Despite this most recent heartbreak, he still didn’t want anyone else. There was no one else like Roger. And, frankly, thank God for that. The world (and Brian) couldn’t handle more than one Roger Taylor. “I’m all right.”

Roger looked at him, unconvinced. Brian understood why. Even John went to discos sometimes, but Brian hardly went anywhere. And although it was easier these days after their (boring) TV performance to find enthusiastically willing partners, he still had difficulty letting himself be with someone, especially when the person he actually wanted was usually next to him and the rare girls he did bring back to his place notably had pretty blond hair and big blue eyes (and fat bottoms). Brian wished he could say that it was just because of how close he was with Roger, how they traveled extensively together, how they hardly ever spent more than a few days apart, that it was difficult for him to get over this infatuation. But, he knew that if years of tumultuous friendship and numerous heartbreaks didn’t change his feelings for Roger, then it was something more significant, something deeper, something that would never go away, and something Roger would probably never know about because as brilliant as he actually was, he also could be quite oblivious to what was going on around him. Brian partially blamed it on his firm refusal to wear proper glasses because it wasn’t rock ‘n’ roll.

“If you change your mind, let me know,” Roger finally said in his usual prideful way of saying without saying that he cared for Brian and honestly how was Brian supposed to move on from him when he knew he at least liked him this much?

Brian sighed and gave Roger a small smile. “I know. Thanks, but I don’t think I will.”

Roger looked at him for a long moment and Brian wished he would see something that told him that, no, Brian’s fondness for him wasn’t that of a friend; that it was _him _Brian always watched instead of girls who were with him; that to Brian he was as dear as his Red Special, if not more. But, Roger saw nothing.

“We should go. Reid said he tried to call you, John, and Freddie, but no one picked up, so now we’ve got to tell everyone.” Roger grinned. “Let’s get a bottle of champagne to celebrate!”

Brian swallowed his disappointment and began picking up his stuff. “They didn’t pick up? And we can’t afford champagne.”

Roger shrugged as he went to wake the girl up. “Probably still sleeping. John did say today is Ronnie’s day off and you know how Freddie is.”

The girl (who fortunately really was asleep) mildly complained when Roger told her they’re going, but they were soon on their way after Roger promised her champagne he would fund with his limited saving. On their way to John’s, Brian noticed that from behind his sunglasses, Roger was watching him talk to the girl. He knew what Roger expected to see. He also knew Roger didn’t see that Brian’s attention, that his entire happiness was directed to him.

(That night, John and Freddie received stern lectures on the importance of locking doors to prevent traumatizing innocent people with sights of body parts and sex positions that seemed to require displacements of several bones.)

(Later that night, Brian couldn’t sleep as he and his friends were sprawled all over Freddie’s tiny living room and Roger was within the reach of his hands and his lips, but he couldn’t, mustn’t touch him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more angst than expected, I guess. Sorry. And is anyone excited for Maylor week? I'll try to participate, although I have to be afk for the second half of it, so let's hope I figure out how to post things from my phone (and how to edit fics in between work).
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) where my fanworks never show up on the proper tag(s).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has my favorite dialogue in this fic. I hope you enjoy it, too!

The fourth time Brian kissed Roger, too much alcohol was involved.

Ridge Farm might be the cheapest and therefore sorriest studio their company would afford for them, but it had a pub just down the street. Its services were most beneficial to them when the tension in the studio got too thick, they were sick of each other’s company, or the songwriting and recording session had gone exceptionally well. It was this last reason that brought Brian to the pub that night. Still feeling inspired by the progress they had made earlier, he kept ordering one pint after another until his brain and limbs started to miscommunicate and he wobbled more than he walked. Freddie and John, not finished with getting completely pissed, refused to leave the pub just yet, leaving him to Roger’s capable but also slightly tipsy hands. It was quite a miracle that they managed to walk back to the farm and then up the stairs to Brian’s room without any accident worse than bumping onto walls with hushed giggles, Roger’s arm strong and steady around Brian as he kept him upright. The familiar sight of his bed in his darkened room and the suddenly amusing thought of being carried by someone smaller than him made Brian laugh. It seemed so natural, then, to turn to Roger and pull him into a deep kiss, his fingers tangled around soft hair, Roger’s arm around his back. His lips were soft when Brian’s tongue probed between them and he tasted a bit like beer. Or maybe Brian did. It didn’t matter. All was well and he was kissing the man he loved. Brian smiled into the kiss he had been deprived of.

A screech filled the room as Brian fell on his bed when Roger shoved hard against his chest, knocking air out of his lungs.

Brian stared wide-eyed at the silhouette of Roger, heart rapidly sinking to his unsteady stomach and making him want to hurl. Shadows kept him from seeing Roger’s expression, but years of quietly watching Roger and being so attuned to him made him instantly and sickeningly alarmed and gave him enough sobriety to push himself up onto his wobbly arms.

“Are you okay? Why are you screaming?” he asked urgently, his words only slightly slurred. He tried to grab at Roger but missed him by a mile, ending up grabbing empty air instead.

“That was the bed, you idiot. Are you saying I sound like a squeaky bed?” Roger demanded in a voice that definitely wasn’t at all like a squeaky bed, but maybe a little bit like a dog whistle.

Alcohol pleasantly numbed Brian’s survival instinct, but not enough to make him mention anything about dog whistle (only Freddie could get away with that, the lucky bastard). He sighed in relief and lowered himself to the bed again, blissfully unconcerned about the threat of impending tantrum. “Thought you were hurt, but that can’t be right. We were kissing.”

Roger said nothing for a moment. “You sure like kissing me.”

There was something in Roger’s voice that Brian currently couldn’t put his finger on. He blinked at the bluish shadow before him. He could see a little more of Roger now, but still couldn’t clearly see his face, let alone judge his mood. Brian wished he could see his face. He could never get tired of it or the way his eyes blaze and twinkle or the way his lips curl expressively or the way he quietly watched and assessed behind the mask of a party-loving ignorant drummer. “Yeah. You’re so…” Gorgeous. Smart. Talented. Funny. Amazing. Perfect. Everything Brian could ever want but would never have.

“If you say pretty, I’ll throw you out of the window.” Then, perhaps sensing that Brian was considering the merit of a late night flying lesson, he added, “you and the Red Special.”

“Handsome! Handsome!” Brian frantically answered. “Cleverest! Most talented! Great song writer! Best drummer! Best singer after Freddie! Best mate!” he continued just in case Roger was still intent on threatening the livelihood of his guitar.

There was a huff, then Roger lifted his legs and arranged him into the right position on the bed. “You’d do anything for that guitar, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything,” Brian agreed. Then, he thought better of it. “Except murder. Especially of badgers.”

A snort. “What about theft?” A thud as one of Brian’s shoes hit the wall.

Brian frowned at the Roger-shaped shadow at the foot of his bed, trying to think. “Negotiable.”

Another thud. “Kidnapping Freddie’s cats?”

“He’ll kill us, but yes, as long as we give them back safely after.”

There was a smile in Roger’s voice when he spoke next. “Dancing all night at the disco with Deaky?”

Brian hesitated, recognizing that even with inhuman amount of alcohol in his system, he could only muster an impression of a particularly energetic caterpillar. “Maybe.”

Roger laughed and suddenly Brian’s feet were sock-less. Brian wriggled his toes. He’d always envisioned being undressed by Roger involved flying buttons and ripped shirts and an absurd amount of moaning, but all right. “Publicly declaring that the earth is flat?”

Brian glared at the general direction of Roger, ready to defend the integrity of his science with physical violence if necessary. “Never!”

Roger laughed again from the bedside this time. How did he teleport there? “You’ve a messed up priority, Bri.” There were some shuffles in the dark and then Roger spoke again. “I’ll go make sure Freddie and John don’t get drunk without me.”

The thought of Roger leaving him alone was suddenly unbearable. Well, the thought of Roger leaving him was _always _unbearable. Brian wondered if anyone noticed how he tried to stay close to Roger at all times, how he was most comfortable with Roger beside him. John sometimes gave him a strange look or five hundred when he did this, but Brian had come to accept that John had a mysterious world of deep thoughts, dirty jokes, and wickedness behind his quiet demeanor and so it was wiser to not assume anything about what he was thinking. And anyway John was still at the pub, moaning about being away from Veronica, so Brian reached out blindly to grab Roger’s arm as he was turning to leave. By not-so-small amount of divine miracle that he would later attribute to good karma for the lack of murder he had committed in the years he had had to deal with his band mates, he actually succeeded.

“Please, stay,” he slurred pleadingly.

For a moment Brian feared Roger would ignore him and go away, but then came a tired exhale. “Move, then,” Roger said. Brian’s banshee of a bed screeched and squeaked bloody murder again as Brian made space for Roger and Roger settled beside him. “The things I’d do for you,” Roger complained. Despite what he said, soon there were heavy thuds as he removed his boots, followed by a big yawn.

Brian looked at the silhouetted profile beside him. He itched to touch Roger and not (just) in the way he imagined when he researched the lubricative property of hand lotion in his room at night, but in a way meant to convey how endearingly he thought of Roger. Brian hadn’t lied about his compliments for Roger. He believed and strongly felt every single one of them. He wished he could express them. He wished he could make Roger see. But, drunk or not, Brian knew when to hold back his years-old affection that would never fade away. He was a little choked up at the thought of forever longing without reprieve. Sometimes, infinity seemed very scary.

“Can you stop complaining about me being too slow, then?” he asked, clutching his pillow tightly in lieu of touching Roger.

“Only if you’d stop slowing the fuck down!” Roger retorted hotly.

“I just slow down a little bit!”

“There’s absolutely no need to slow down, a little bit or not!” Roger moved to his side to comfortably argue with Brian, causing the bed to scream again. Cursing creatively, he stilled, laying inches away from Brian. “God! No wonder you never bring any girl back!”

The warmth and proximity almost instantly removed any trace of annoyance within Brian. For someone so angry, Roger had an uncanny ability to calm Brian own and give him contentment. Brian’s eyes began to droop and he burrowed his head in his pillow, wishing he could cuddle with Roger. “Don’t want any girl,” he mumbled just before he fell asleep. In his dream, Roger pushed his hair out of his face and called him a stupid man.

(This was the man he loved, Brian thought despairingly as he negotiated with the cupboard Roger had claimed as his new home until they agreed to let his car song be on their next single. He wasn’t very experienced in romance, but he was quite sure luring a love interest out of a piece of furniture using a bottle of cheap wine wasn’t a popular romantic gesture.)

(This was the man he loved, Brian thought breathlessly when he woke up next to a sleeping Roger. This was the sight he wanted to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life and it might be a terrible idea, but he knew he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try to have that, to have Roger as his lover, in his life.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: angst! Actually the chapter after that/the last chapter is also angst. So, prepare yourself? It's nothing too sad, though.
> 
> I think I'll change my username here. I came up with this one when I was a preteen looking for a "cool" username for a Harry Potter site, but a lot of things have changed since then and now I cringe whenever I see my username. Most likely I'll use my tumblr name demonessryu, which, yes, is also juvenile but an improvement nevertheless and it'll make it easier to find me on various platforms (until I decide to change my name again in two decades). Anyway, if you see any random Ryu showing up on this tag, it might be me.
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) where my posts sometimes don't show up on the right tags.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As warned in the previous chapter, I've changed my name! If you bookmark my fics, the bookmarks shouldn't be affected. But, I'm not sure about subscription, so if any of you subscribe to me here, you may want to check that.
> 
> Also as warned in the previous chapter, we shall have angst! This chapter is also quite significantly longer than the previous ones. In fact, while I was editing this, I realized that the last two chapters make up half of the fics (~12k words in total). Warning for a paragraph about homophobia near the end.

The fifth time Brian kissed Roger, it was a gamble.

It was late at night and they had just returned from their tour abroad. As exciting as it was to see new places, meet new people, there was still a huge relief in returning to the familiarity of their home country. They were home, only not quite just yet. The band and crew split up one by one, eager to see their loved ones and homes. John was the first to drive away in his car, unable to wait a second longer to see his wife and son. Next, Freddie was driven away by his loyal assistant while he bragged and teased about the absolutely not feline lovers waiting for him at home. Brian was about to get a cab when Roger unexpectedly offered him a ride. Roger was in a good mood, smiling and joking and not trying to pick a fight with Brian as they drove down familiar streets and passed familiar buildings. They reviewed the places they had visited, people they had met, and with every word spoken, Brian’s exhaustion melted away in the warmth of friendship and feelings unrequited. It felt right-it _was _right to be with Roger, chatting about nothing and everything, and even being silent because being together was enough. He stole glances at Roger when they chanced upon streetlights, admiring his soft features, the usually hidden sharpness of his mind and the brightness of his soul. Freddie was enigmatic, especially on stage, but to Brian, it was Roger who was the flame he couldn’t stay away from, the sun he kept orbiting around. He loved him. God, how he loved him. He had kept it quiet for so long and maybe he should keep it quiet for much longer, for the rest of his life even, but, even though his heart was pounding loudly in his chest, Brian decided to take a chance. When the car stopped in front of his house, Brian leaned forward and kissed Roger’s lips lightly, lingering just long enough to convey how much he truly meant it.

The look on Roger’s face when Brian pulled away was something Brian would never forget.

The shock was expected. The lack of anger was a relief. But, the absence of reciprocation made Brian’s stomach twist in nervousness. He began second guessing himself. He hadn’t expected anything from Roger. The half-formed plan that had been hovering in his mind daily since they shared his bed in the farm had been mostly selfish. He had meant it to relieve himself from the painful yearning that had taken hold of his heart for years. He had only wanted to lighten the burden of secret from his shoulders, end the uncertainty with either happiness or pain. The success of their album and the flurry of activities that followed had made it easy to not think about Roger’s reaction and when he did think about it, he didn’t think about it too long, knowing it was a path of anxiety and self-loathing. Brian had _hoped_, naturally. Almost every idle moment was filled with fantasies of love reciprocated, heart and soul kept by the person whom he most adored. His dreams were filled with peaceful bliss and familiar arguments, both of which made him smile when he woke up. But, he had expected nothing and now that he had taken a chance, all the possibilities that he had studiously ignored swarmed his mind.

Something stirred in Roger’s expression. His brows furrowed slightly. “I didn’t realize you drank on the plane,” he said, voice uncertain, but not angry. Yet.

Brian took a deep breath to gather his courage. “I’m not drunk. That wasn’t a spur of the moment thing or an accident. I didn’t mistake you for anyone else, either. I just…” Brian shrugged, swallowing so thickly and loudly he was almost embarrassed by how obviously he was nervous. “I just want you. I just love you.”

The word was heavy in its truthfulness. A part of Brian that had heavily contributed to his terminally limited romantic history panicked, convinced that it was too early to say the word and he had ruined whatever chance he had had with Roger by saying it. They hadn’t even gone on a proper date! Unless he counted the innumerable times they went on dinners, pubs, and even vacations. But, they hadn’t held hands yet! Although, they had kissed five times now and they had seen each other in states of undress usually reserved between lovers. Everything between them was all over the place and Brian got even more uncertain as silence stretched in the cramped space.

“Why?”

Brian could write entire songs about all the amazing things he perceived in Roger, but he knew that wasn’t what Roger was asking about. He didn’t need pretty words to gratify himself with. Roger knew his worth. He was always confident with who he was and what he was capable of. He didn’t need anyone to assure him of that. He certainly didn’t need _Brian_ to say that to him. What he was asking was something else entirely, something Brian didn’t really know how to express. He could go on and on and on about almost every subject any interviewer threw at him. But, it wasn’t easy to encapsulate the gradual and inexorable change his feelings for Roger had taken in the many years they had known each other.

“Why not?” Brian asked back.

Roger gave him a look that clearly indicated that he thought Brian an idiot and, yeah, that was fair. Brian felt an oncoming headache as he recalled the many fights he had had with Roger. Everyone – the press, the fans, the roadies – knew they never agreed on anything. Freddie had long since given up trying to make them get along and John had learnt to sit back and enjoy the show while Roger and Brian settled who was feeling more stubborn during any given argument. Opposite supposedly attracts, but in their case, it attacked – with hairspray in one memorable occasion. Brian wasn’t worried about Roger ever harming him, but it was true that they had plenty of incompatibilities and their history of friendship was riddled with fights.

“Just this morning we argued for ten minutes about breakfast,” Roger reminded him.

“You had an entire prairie ecosystem on your plate!” Brian argued, frowning as he remembered the horrifying mountain of meat Roger had put on his plate. Opposing diets aside, the kind of torture Roger put his coronary through should be banned by several war conventions.

“It’s called the food chain, Brian!”

They spent the next few minutes arguing their place in the food chain and the effects of food industry and were on the verge of starting World War III when Roger summed the argument up. “We disagree about everything.”

“That’s not true,” Brian muttered worriedly. He knew it wasn’t. They wouldn’t have stuck together for almost a decade if they didn’t have anything they both agreed on. But, it was true that topics that wouldn’t start fights between them didn’t immediately come to mind. Brian wracked his brain for something. His memory wasn’t the best and after all these years, both their arguments and pleasant conversations were uniformly labeled under time spent with Roger that Brian wished had last forever. “We both think the music press sucks.”

“Anyone with sense can see that it’s true!” Roger immediately said with a huff. “They just don’t like that we’re different and don’t depend on them! They’re so determined to undermine us that they don’t do their jobs right! Did you see that they get me and John wrong again the other day?”

Brian made a noise of displeasure. He did remember that particular article. As annoying as it was to have people insulting Queen, it was far more irritating when they get the members wrong. Sure, Freddie got most of the spotlight and Brian was the one who usually shared it with him, but Roger and John were equally talented and valuable to the band. There wouldn’t be Queen without them. It irked him that some people seemed to think they were replaceable with just any person who could play their instruments. John was too mild-mannered to complain about it, but Roger wasn’t as quiet – and rightly so! “It’s the least thing they could do, looking up our names. Yet, they _still_ didn’t get it right.”

“Exactly! How reliable are they when they can’t even get our names right? Why should anyone trust them when they say our music is terrible?”

“Well, it’s a matter of preference,” Brian allowed. “Although, I think we’re doing all right if the way the fans reacted in this tour was any indication.”

Roger nodded vigorously. “Sure, some of our songs aren’t _amazing_, but people who _really matter_ like them. Our fans like them. I know _I_ haven’t stopped listening to our songs.”

Brian, who was proud of the work he and his friends had put into their albums and concerts, but was always too conscious about little flaws and imperfections, couldn’t help but added, “and our performances are getting better and better. We’ve figured out how things work now and how to work with the audience. Of course there’s always room for improvement – there are bits and sections we could improve.” Brian went on about the technical things he thought they could’ve done better during the recent tour and was just starting about the sound system in one of the cities they had visited when he caught the look Roger was giving him. His mouth clicked shut. “Sorry.”

Roger gave him a look that said he could suggest a few creative orifices for Brian to shove his modesty and self-depreciation into. “We’re _much _better than they give us credit for. Freddie is one of the country’s best singers and entertainer, and anyone who knows anything about playing bass must know that Deaky is brilliant!” he exclaimed with ferocity that would frighten any sensible music critic had they seen it. “Do they think they could find someone like them any time off the street? Or someone like _you_? Ha! How many people out there write songs like yours? None! The press wouldn’t be able to imagine half of your dedication and talent or the efforts you put into music and performances! If they do know what you’re capable of and they’re still so hateful about you, then they’ve just got a poor taste!” he spat out.

Love, powerful in its enormity, infinite in its depth, bloomed from Brian’s chest and overwhelmed. He couldn’t breathe for one moment, overcame with an onslaught of unspoken confession: _I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. I love you so much that sometimes I feel my soul will burst. I love you so much, I sometimes I can’t believe it’s real. But, it’s real and I love you more and more every second and I will love you forever. _Brian watched Roger glaring at the road, still lost in his rage to the music press. Roger might at times seem like not a sensible option for someone to love, but Brian had no regret losing his heart to him. This was the man he loved, flaws and all, and if he could redo his life all over again, he would still give his heart away to him.

It was far too soon for something so soppy, though. It was honest. It was raw. It was a promise of eternity. But, he couldn’t say it yet when Roger was still unconvinced, just temporarily distracted. “This is why,” Brian finally said. “This is why I love you. We argue a lot and we’ll argue a lot more, but in the end I know I can count on you for music, advices, conversations, help, support, anything. We can have disagreements about everything, but when we’re on stage and at times like this, I know we’re not that different. This is why we’re friends-_still_ friends after all this time. Why to me you’re my best friend in the whole world. It’s because no matter how often and terribly we fight, I know you’ll always have my back.”

Roger looked like he was about to argue, but he stopped himself and looked away. “I should’ve known it when you never brought any girl back this tour,” he said, then frowned. “No. I should’ve known it much earlier when you…” He stopped, probably to recall every instance of their interactions that had given Brian’s feelings away. Brian knew there were many – he wasn’t that good at concealing himself – and could only hope Roger think of them with at least half as much fondness as he did when he was all alone. “With Freddie, I had always wondered, but I never considered you.”

They were silent for a long time, thinking of the men Freddie had brought to his hotel room and the bars and clubs he had visited this last tour. After the initial surprise, they had all quietly accepted it. But, even though they never discussed it, they all recognized Freddie’s fear, frustration and dissatisfaction with having to keep secrets and pretend to be someone he was not. Just thinking about it worried Brian. He had been very careful (barring five kisses and uncountable gazes) so far, but that could be him. That _would_ be him. He would have to hide, carefully choose his words as to not rouse suspicion, play acts to distract. It would be exhausting and depressing, continuously running from the prejudiced eyes of the society. What if one day he couldn’t pretend anymore? How would people react? How many “friends” would stay and how many would leave him? What would happen to him? Was he strong enough to bear the cruelty that was almost sure to come honesty? He wouldn’t insult Roger by thinking that the fact that Brian liked men bothered him, but Brian’s confession might have jeopardized their already tumultuous friendship and after all these years together, he simply couldn’t imagine being without Roger’s close friendship. Suddenly, Brian realized that by confessing his feelings, he did more than risking a broken heart – he was also risking his whole life as he knew it. He felt a little shaken, overwhelmed by grim possibilities. He could feel Roger’s eyes on him and knew without asking that Roger was worried about the same.

“Well, I am,” Brian said softly.

“And now you want to… what? Kiss me again? Sleep with me? Or…” Roger trailed off. When Brian glanced at him, he saw his face softened by compassion borne out of fear of hurting him before seriousness replaced it. “What do you want?”

“All of that, but mostly or,” Brian admitted.

Roger studied him closely, then asked, “and if I refuse?”

Then, Brian’s heart would be shattered, impossible to repair. No, he wouldn’t stop living just because of a rejection, but he knew something inside him would never be quite right anymore. There would always be jagged edges of a broken heart cutting him from deep inside, cutting him with every breath he took. There was no use in seeking the comfort of replacement. There had only ever been Roger who occupied his heart and he knew there would only ever be him. He would keep hiding his true self, forever carrying the secret, letting it be known only to the one person who wouldn’t have him, because at least at the moment he couldn’t fathom why he would tell the rest of the world when he couldn’t be with the one he loved. But, Brian had to be brave and he absolutely mustn’t unfairly pressure Roger to accept what and who he might not want. “Then, we forget this ever happens,” he lied.

The way Roger looked at him suggested that he didn’t believe him, but he didn’t contradict Brian. “I can’t think right now. I’m tired.”

Brian nodded, a little disappointed but also a little relieved. “Right. Thanks for the ride.”

Brian got off and picked up his luggage and guitar. Just as he was walking to his too-empty house, Roger called him. He had rolled down the window on the driver’s side and leaned out toward Brian. Under the dim street lights, Brian could see perfect seriousness on his face and know that what he said next wasn’t just empty placating words.

“Whatever my answer will be, you’ve got me.”

Brian watched the car drive away until it was swallowed by the darkness of the night. Then, he brought his belongings inside, taking care not to harm the Red Special. He turned on the light of the foyer and sighed, leaning heavily against a wall. The silence of his house deafened, the empty spaces oppressed. Breathing was a struggle that he didn’t quite win. Brian was glad he lived alone, so no one saw tears welled up in his eyes.

(Brian wasn’t a fool. He knew he had many things working against him. He shouldn’t get his hopes up)

(Brian was a fool. He hoped Roger would love him back)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I project quite a lot on Brian at the end there. I also can't decide whether Brian is bi or gay (or Roger-sexual), so I kind of leave it vague. Thoughts? Anyway, next chapter will be even longer than this because I couldn't stop rambling. I'm still not entirely happy about it, though, so I may take a while editing it. I have to end this fic properly!
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) where my fanworks never show up on the proper tag(s).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone doing? I'm going a bit crazy being stuck at home and denying how much I won't earn while this situation lasts - freelance works has its drawbacks <strike>on completely unrelated news I have a ko-fi page you can find on my tumblr</strike> I hope you guys are ok and for those who need cheering up, I hope this chapter makes you feel a bit better.
> 
> This chapter was actually about 90% ready a couple of weeks ago, but I felt something was not quite right. I'm glad I took the time because Roger's dialogue at the end was a lot more self-centered originally, but I think I've got it now. Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments for this fic! Comedy is far from my strongest genre, but I had fun writing this!

The first time Roger kissed Brian….Well.

They didn’t talk about it. When they met for a jamming session a couple of weeks later, Roger acted like nothing at all had happened. Brian waited for glances or even stares, but there was nothing. Brian had expected Roger to not tell any other soul about his proclivities until Brian said otherwise, but he hadn’t expected this. He treated Brian like he did any other time: with unconcealed exasperation intermittent with friendly amusement. Meanwhile, Brian was preoccupied by concerns of what Roger might think of him. He’d think Roger had forgotten but Roger, like elephants, never forgot and was also prone to destroying things on his path when upset. Yet, he said nothing and he didn’t pick fights any more than usual. Even the drumkit remained intact. Brian went home feeling quite dejected and didn’t feel much better when it happened all over again the next time they met. And the next. And the next.

Perhaps this was Roger’s way to turn him down, but it wasn’t like him at all. Brian was the one who drew out rejection, always afraid of disappointing someone and ironically ending up hurting them more by delaying. Roger and Freddie weren’t shy about their opinions. Roger especially would have spoken clearly, loudly and explicitly about his disapproval. He would told Brian immediately if he didn’t return his feelings. Although, perhaps he was being considerate. They might argue more often than what was healthy, but they were still friends, after all. In between disagreements, they found common grounds and they were each other’s ally when they needed to pick a side in the band. Perhaps he was trying to let Brian down slowly as to not hurt him. Perhaps he was still thinking about it. Perhaps deep inside him he liked Brian just enough to not immediately reject him, or maybe even wonder about his own feelings. Or perhaps he felt for Brian as Brian felt for him. After all, Brian hadn’t heard of him mention any girl or seen him with any girl. This wouldn’t be so strange if it weren’t Roger, who had unashamedly admitted his desire for the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle and eagerly dove in headfirst into the pool of unhealthy habits and inhumanly active sex life the second he had access to it. Although, Roger was surprisingly discreet about his relationships for someone the public had labeled as a playboy. Maybe there were girls he didn’t talk about. Maybe there was someone special that he was hiding.

Brian was overthinking this, but he couldn’t help it. In his defense, Roger was acting like himself, which wasn’t the normal way to react to a love confession from a good friend he had known for almost a decade. Brian expected more awkwardness. He certainly felt more awkward around Roger, constantly trying to read between Roger’s lines, watching him just in case there was something that gave away his thoughts, and second guessing his own actions just in case he had done something that might have helped make up Roger’s mind. Freddie complained about his distracted state of mind, but otherwise didn’t seem to realize anything was amiss. John, on the other hand, seemed to know something was up. Brian caught John watching him watching Roger at least once. He said nothing, but quirked an eyebrow in a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Brian threw peanuts at him, then muttered about payback for the peanuts plantation John had tried to grow in his hair during their last tour when Freddie admonished him.

After many meetings and outings in which absolutely nothing but great music happened, Brian started to feel resigned. Roger still showed no sign of even thinking about Brian’s confession, but, having known him for years, Brian knew well about Roger’s ability to appear nonchalant and oblivious when he was in fact deliberating and paying attention. Brian almost wished he could push for an answer, but that couldn’t possibly end well. He had no option but to wait, although the anticipation drove him absolutely mad. He went along with Roger’s actions, never skipping practice, giving suggestions when asked (and sometimes when not), arguing when Roger and Freddie came up with ideas too insane even for their very high standards, and going out to drink whenever there was something to celebrate or forget. Sometimes just the two of them went together and it was an advanced test of self-control for Brian not to mention his confession that fateful night. It was nearly impossible with Roger watching him from under half-lidded eyes, lips curled up in lazy contentment, so Brian turned to alcohol for moral support, sadly more than once resulting in him in an undignified heap by the toilet while Roger complained about a good friend’s sacred duty of getting Brian’s hair out of the way while he gave his bountiful offering to the toilet god, which couldn’t possibly help his case with Roger.

It wasn’t easy, but nothing was ever easy with Roger. Brian couldn’t fully hide his anxiety, but at least he had managed not to pressure him into saying anything, which should count for something. He sure hoped it counted for something as he walked to Roger’s front door, having suddenly been invited for dinner just that morning, which was generally a code for Roger needing a company while he indulged himself in whatever form of entertainment his whims demanded. Hopelessly in love, Brian rang the bell. Only a few seconds later, Roger opened the door and immediately frowned at him.

“I thought I told you to put on something nice, not to look like a librarian.”

Brian thought those were big words coming from someone who was currently wearing multiple layers of clothes of every color known to man and then a few more only visible to non-human species. However, he said nothing about it, knowing by now not to question Roger and Freddie’s sense of fashion. Besides, he had seen Roger in tiger stripe leggings and leopard print vest and still could barely think of anything other than kissing him silly, so he might have even more questionable tastes than Roger and Freddie combined.

“I look all right, I think,” he replied unconvincingly, wishing he had worn one of his jackets instead of the warm brown vest he was currently wearing. Roger would’ve appreciated the hint of rock ‘n’ roll more.

Roger scoffed and let him in. Brian looked around as Roger led him into his house. There was no party paraphernalia he had come to be familiar with and the press had expected from them, but this wasn’t out of ordinary. For all his extroversion, Roger could sometimes be entertained by a simple book or a good conversation with a friend. Indeed the mood didn’t strike him often, but Brian had seen it often enough to not question it when it came. This time, Brian was led to the dining room where a mixed menu of vegetarian and non-vegetarian food was waiting for them. He spied takeout bags from various restaurants on the kitchen counter, but that was expected since Roger’s cooking skill was only slightly better than Freddie’s, meaning it was only tragic instead of catastrophic. Relieved that the kitchen wasn’t in any need of replacing or rebuilding, Brian sat down to enjoy the meal and the company.

Roger seemed to not be in the mood for talking about work or politics this time and started a light conversation on books, TV shows, and people around them. Brian wasn’t as well-versed in the pop culture as Roger was, but he was still able to keep up and a bottle of wine almost never failed to mellow Roger out enough to give him the patience it required to explain the happenings around the world to Brian. They shared a good laugh over the antics of people on the media and poked fun at their friends, famous and otherwise. Their senses of humor might not always align, but they were laughing and joking when they moved to the living room with bottles and glasses of wine.

“Do you remember what Misfire is about?”

“I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

“Five kids. At least.”

“You can’t make a bet about how many children John will have!” Brian reprimanded Roger even as he laughed.

Roger seemed unconcerned as he smilingly poured himself a generous helping of wine. He looked quite smug, smirking at Brian over the rim of his wine glass. “Ronnie is quite tough. Do you remember that time we caught them having sex? She can….” Roger rolled his eyes when he saw the withering look Brian gave him. “Oh, _fine_.”

“John won’t be happy when he knows about it,” Brian warned him, settling down more comfortably on the sofa now that without the threat of resurfacing memory of his close friends’ very athletic private lives.

“Oh, he knows about it. He thinks it’s funny! I’m trying to convince him to help me win the bet!”

Brian shook his head with a laugh. He could believe it. John was the quietest of the four of them, but sometimes his wickedness matched Roger’s. Brian watched the two of them sometimes when they were up to some no-good plots that usually involved fast cars. He sometimes wished he could have what they had, but he was stubborn where John was accommodating. Compromise was necessary when dealing with Roger and Brian felt he wasn’t compromising enough sometimes. The thought was discouraging, but then Roger refilled his empty glass, leaning toward him in the process, the light in the room and his tipsy smile softening his occasional harshness, and when he pulled away, there was only sweetness on his face. There was not a fight brewing as the companionship between them –whatever it was – thickened and strengthened. Brian would never have with Roger what John had with him, but it didn’t mean they were enemies – or worse, strangers. They were very good friends – perhaps even best friends – and if that was all he could have, if that was all Roger would give him, Brian would still be a happy man.

“You’re a menace,” he commented fondly, affection infusing every syllable he said. Then, he bit his tongue, worried that he had inadvertently pressured Roger by making his feelings obvious when Roger obviously preferred acting like no surprise revelation had come to light between them.

Roger blinked at him slowly. “We all are, in our own ways. It’s just that some people can’t believe some of us could possibly be anything but perfectly proper!” He frowned pointedly to Brian and started to mockingly recite Brian’s song. “_Oh, __I like it. You call me up and treat me like a _dog_._ And people still think you’re a proper good boy who couldn’t come up with anything more exciting than hand holding!”

Brian flushed. Sweet Lady was a result of his curiosity about some sordid tales their roadies shared. It definitely wasn’t one of his more wholesome songs, but damn if Brian was going to let Roger gain the upper hand easily. “Are we quoting songs now? Should I remind you about your car song?”

For a moment, Brian had forgotten that he was dealing with a man who had locked himself up in a cupboard to get a song about fucking a car sold worldwide. Naturally, Roger wasn’t the slightest bit concerned about the lyrics fight. “_You’ve got me on a lead_? And here I’ve always thought you’re a cat person!”

“_With my hand of your grease gun_, Rog? That’s lyrics for the ages.”

“It’s a metaphor!”

“A metaphor for what exactly?”

Roger glared at him. “What do _you _think?”

Brian froze as his heart clenched tightly in his chest. It wasn’t entirely surprising. In fact, it was more surprising that Roger had waited so long to experiment – he seemed to have taken it upon himself to try every earthly pleasure available to him immediately. If even Brian had been propositioned by men a few times, surely Roger had received the same attention many more times over. It was only expected that he had at some point been with a man, but the revelation still hit Brian with shock and not a small amount of misplaced jealousy. “So you’ve…”

“Yeah. There was a bloke at the pub back in the farm,” Roger explained the unwanted detail, easy as anything. “Didn’t really like it, though, so we didn’t go all the way.”

“Oh,” Brian breathed, heart sinking so rapidly he was sick.

Well, he had wanted an answer, hadn’t he? Here was his answer. Sure, it wasn’t favorable to him, but it was an answer. And honestly what did he expect with all those girls Roger had been with versus one man he had gotten involved with out of curiosity? It was clear from the start, honestly, and Brian was being silly for even holding a flicker of hope that he might receive a different answer. Of course Roger preferred women. Of course he would never see or think about Brian the way Brian saw and thought of him. Brian cleared his throat and drained the rest of his wine in a big gulp.

“That’s too bad.”

Roger hummed, looking at his glass full of wine in his hand. “Yeah. He was a good bloke – really nice and good looking – but it just didn’t feel right, so I left.” He swirled the red liquid in his glass and gazed at it contemplatively. “I thought maybe I just needed to be with the right person, you know? So when I met… What?”

Brian had set his glass down on the coffee table rather loudly, with strength that surprised even him. He tried to calm himself down. It never worked to talk to Roger while overwhelmed with emotions and Brian was absolutely overcome now. He took deep breaths, trying to rein in the misery, anger, jealousy, and utter agony enveloping his heart. He could feel Roger’s eyes on him, confused and a little alarmed, but he couldn’t meet them. Why? Brian couldn’t tell. Roger had seen him with almost every emotion human was capable of, but this one he didn’t want to show. He didn’t want Roger to see him irreparably devastated for the love that was could never be his to begin with. He didn’t want Roger to see the heart offered to him break.

“You don’t have to feel the same way I do,” Brian started, his voice more uneven than he liked. “But, spare me the details. I don’t need to know about anyone else you’ve been with – men or women. I don’t want to know about them or what you did with them.”

Roger quietly watched him for a moment. “Are you jealous?” he asked, his voice lacking accusatory or mocking tone.

Brian thought to deny it as he was rather embarrassed by his own strong reaction. However, he felt like he owed Roger the truth. “Yes,” he replied quietly, then added, “I won’t always be, but now-_right now_, I am.” Even Brian himself doubted this. This was a love that had survived years of watching and pining from afar. It had even survived numerous painful disagreements. It wouldn’t be easily and quickly diminished, if ever at all. But, Roger didn’t need to know that.

“You don’t have to be. They’re just…” Roger trailed off. Brian imagined he had shrugged, indicating the lack of significance in his involvement with these people. “I just wanted to know.”

“And now you’ve known.” Brian swallowed thickly, recalling what Roger had said earlier. Roger hadn’t liked it. It hadn’t felt right. Brian’s eyes didn’t quite burn, but there was a mild pressure in his head that signified tears but couldn’t match the pain in his heart, deep cuts no medicine could touch or heal. “I need water,” he announced as he made to stand up.

Brian had barely made a few inches off the sofa before he was pulled down with a firm tug on his arm. He sat back down and turned to Roger in surprise just as Roger leaned forward toward him. “Wait a second. You need to hear this.”

“I don’t,” Brian asserted.

“Well, _I _need you to hear this,” Roger insisted and as was often the case in the long friendship, Brian gave in. Seeing this, Roger’s grip gentled, but he didn’t remove his hand from Brian, his touch burning through the thin sleeve of his shirt. He looked at Brian closely, expression devoid of his usual good nature. “I’ve kissed some men, but it never felt like when you kissed me.”

Brian stared, wide-eyed and uncomprehending. His heart skipped a beat before resuming in a fast rhythm that mirrored Roger’s exuberant drumming, so quickly it ached a little bit. He stared at his friends of many years, his love for almost as long, and thought, no, it couldn’t be true. He must’ve misheard or misunderstood. Roger couldn’t possibly say he was different from other men. He couldn’t possibly imply what Brian thought (hoped) he meant. But, Roger was looking at him so sincerely and seriously right now, the way he looked at someone or something he particularly liked, with single-minded gentleness and determination and intensity that made him who he was, that made Brian fell for him over and over again for years and years. He had never looked at Brian like that before and the implication, the possibility made Brian tremble with the weight of hope and dreams.

“I don’t get it, but it wasn’t as nice as when you did it, even when I didn’t expect it from you,” Roger admitted. He released Brian’s arm and impulsively slipped his hand into his shirt to lightly massage his shoulder. “It wasn’t that they were bad – they just weren’t right. With you, even though I got angry a few times, it was you, so it was all right. _You’re_ all right ‘cause I know you. I like spending time with you, working with you, arguing with you, and knowing you and I want to do more of those and do things I’ve only ever done with girls.” Roger paused and removed his hand to put it near Brian’s, close, offering, but not yet touching. “I like you.”

Like wasn’t entirely what Brian felt for Roger, but it was a start, it was a hope, it was a chance Brian couldn’t relinquish. He looked at Roger’s hand. He wanted to hold it, kiss it, bring it to his heart and swear to him eternal devotion – he was always the most sentimental of the four of them. It probably wasn’t welcomed, though. Roger’s approach to romance had always been simple and practical, showing his affection in private actions rather than some grand performance. Although, this wasn’t a performance. This was sincere. This was the heat in Brian’s chest that made his heart expand almost painfully, stretching it to its limits. This was a force that both strengthened and weakened him, making his fingers tremble ever so slightly. This was love suffusing every fiber of his being, completing a hollow inside of him he hadn’t quite realized, a space where Roger fit in perfectly as if it had been made for him. Brian stared, hesitant, then Roger reached out and held his hand.

The breath Brian released was ridiculously loud and trumpet-like, but neither of them laughed. Roger’s hand was slightly callused, warm, and strong over his, lending him stability the way gravity did, and Brian was pulled toward him as he had been from the very first second he saw him. But, rather surprisingly, despite their frequent conflicts, there was no explosion here, no destruction to be found. With his hand in Roger’s, Brian couldn’t feel less than content. Even as thoughts of possible future began to assault him, he still felt quite calm.

They must tell people at some point – at least they must tell Freddie and John. And what should they do about their parents? Would they understand? Brian’s father hadn’t fully approved his choice of career yet. Could he also deprive the man the chance of having a daughter in-law and grandchildren? Then there’s the recording company, the press, and the close-minded public. Even the path of secret, should they choose it, wouldn’t be easy. They had seen how it exhausted and destroyed relationships. There was very real chance that the burden of the world’s gaze on them would be too heavy to bear and they would separate, bitter and tired. Brian knew all these, but even though he grew slightly anxious, he found comfort in Roger’s unflinching eyes. The world had seemed against them once. Things hadn’t worked and people kept leaving them and they seemed to not be destined to amount for anything significant. Yet here they were, an arm’s reach away from their ultimate dream, surrounded by good friends close enough to be called family. Things wouldn’t be easy, but they were well-trained in perseverance. Even those difficult first few years eventually gave way to sweet success because they never gave up on the dreams they shared. It would be fine, Brian knew. As long as they were together, they would find a way to make the world bend, to have it their way, to not compromise on who they were and the love they had, to find happiness together without needing to hide.

Brian turned his hand over and squeeze’s Roger’s. “What do we do now?” he asked.

Roger thought of it for only a second before asking, “can I kiss you?”

They kissed, lightly, fleetingly, all-too-briefly, and for a moment Brian was scared it was another kiss that didn’t feel right for Roger, that he was yet another person to disappoint him. However, before the fear fully took hold, before the doubt sank in, Roger smiled and pressed another kiss to his lips, then another, and another. And though they were all brief, though they weren’t as deep as some kisses they had shared in the past, it was all right. They had the rest of their lives to do more and found what they liked. Brian sank into the comfort of newly found old love and grasped it in his hands, smilingly brought it close to his heart and never let go to the end of his life.

(They weren’t always happy, but they had and loved each other forever and that was the only thing that mattered.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got stuck trying to come up with Roger's jokes to make Brian relax. But, as I often say, when all else fail, go for dirty jokes. Sorry, John and Veronica. Also on a more serious note is there any fic about puppy play involving Brian because Sweet Lady is practically _begging_ for that interpretation (it's not my kink, so I can't write it, but I'm curious lmao).
> 
> Stay safe, everyone. Wash your hands, stay inside if you can, and be kind to critical workers. <strike>And basically do everything my people don't do because we're both selfish and have a death wish.</strike> If you need someone to idk talk about Maylor or take your mind off things, I'm not the best conversationalist but I'm almost always available on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> I'm better at angst than I am at humor. In fact, I planned on full-blown angst, but then some humor sneaked in and I realized humor is the best approach to this plot. Anyway, next chapter will (hopefully) be funnier. I think it is, but my sense of humor is weird sometimes.
> 
> Also, should I tag this under forced kissing?
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) where my fanworks never show up on the proper tags if I try to tell people that I have a ko-fi page.


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